


This was written at 2 in the morning and it shows

by FoundFandomFamilies



Series: Fantasy Wilbur Soot Bullshit [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fantasy AU!, Gen, I have like twenty pages of world building for this au and itll probably only ever get as far as, Intentionally cliche don’t @ me, This is what happens when we binge watch Wilbur Soot people, Will they continue? W h o K n o w s, and I’m okay with that, crack this is just crack, “Tommyinnit and Wilbur Soot harass people in a bar”
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25086685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoundFandomFamilies/pseuds/FoundFandomFamilies
Summary: Over 2000 words of Wilbur bullying Tommy, except it’s in a fantasy universe I guess
Series: Fantasy Wilbur Soot Bullshit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816885
Comments: 19
Kudos: 217





	This was written at 2 in the morning and it shows

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I felt really bad about posting this since I haven’t updated my other works but then I remembered anxiety isn’t my dad and I can do whatever the f u c k I want, so HERE! HAVE MY TRASH

“No see, You’re doing it wrong is the thing, Tommy.”

“I wha-you, I’m doing it the same as you!”

“Nah nah, see, you need to do it like _this_.”

“That’s how I’m doing it!”

“Right, I can see how you would think that. But you’re wrong.”

The younger boy scowls and Wilbur just beams at him. The joyous and welcoming hum of the tavern means nothing to Wilbur right now, not when the teenager in front of him practically has steam coming out of his ears. The band could burst into a chorus of his favourite song, but it wouldn’t come close to Wilbur’s true favourite experience.

Tormenting Tommy. 

“You position your hands like this,” Wilbur explains, patronisingly slowly pointing his index finger down on the table and connecting his thumbs in the air. Tommy’s face goes a deeper shade of red.

“That’s-That’s what I’m bloody doing Wilbur! That is literally-the exact, you complete-”

“Oh, would you look at that, you finally got it! Good work!” Wilbur cheers, tone filled with sunshine and glee as Tommy slams his head against the table.

“Okay! Okay! You had your fun, we did it, can you tell me the rest of the game now?” Tommy pleads, and Wilbur decides to have a little mercy.

“Right well, it’s really quite complicated.” Wilbur starts, and despite his clear annoyance, Tommy’s eyes still shine with curiosity. “You just take a coin and bung it at the other person’s ‘goal’.”

“...You made me go through all that just for a game of shitty fantasy football.” Tommy deadpans, and Wilbur hastily interrupts, grin never leaving his face.

“Ohhhh go on,” Wilbur’s chucks a bronze coin at Tommy without warning, and delights as the younger boy yelps and fumbles catching it. “Give it a shot!”

“I hate you.”

“Give it a shot!”

“I actively despise you.”

Wilbur fake glares. “Tommy, just fucking do it.”

“Alright already!” 

Tommy takes the coin, and flips it over to Wilbur’s ‘goal’. Wilbur flicks his fingers to the side.

“Ah, look at that, missed.” Wilbur sighs sympathetically, and leans back a little in the wooden chair as Tommy explodes again.

“You-You moved your fingers!” Tommy accuses, expressions like Wilbur just threw a kitten into the sea in front of him. “That’s not in the rules!”

“Tell me, Tommy, did you make this game, or did I?”

“You-you-you-“ Tommy goes increasingly redder with every broken record skip, and Wilbur grins. 

“I think you’re just bad at aiming,” Wilbur says, sliding the coin back over. 

“Am not!” Tommy snaps, breaking out of his self-made loop with a pure desire to prove himself. Wilbur just grins in a pure desire to ruin his night, and ruins Tommy’s shot again.

“YOU!” Tommy shrieks, and a man at the bar shoots them an irritated sneer. Wilbur waves angelically at him while Tommy makes noises like a creature from the swamp. He thinks the big guy works at the bakery. He's not sure though. He looks like someone Wilbur would block out of his mind.

“Blind as well as unable to aim brother? For shame. My fingers were perfectly still the whole time!” Wilbur says, breaking out of his thoughts in time to save his brother from devolving further.

“They were not!”

“I think you’re just coming up with excuses.” Wilbur teases, and Tommy huffs.

“Right, well I won’t miss time. Third times the charm, ay?” He says with a concentrating scowl, grabbing back the coin.

“Ay yaye yaye.”

Again, Tommy flicks the coin. And again, Wilbur playfully twitches his fingers in the way.

“Shame,” Wilbur says again, and Tommy sits up furiously in his chair.

“You cheated! You did! I saw you that time, you complete utter-”

“Sore loser is a bad shade on you, Tommy. Why don’t try again?”

“Oh, why don’t you bloody try again, go on! Put your money where your mouth is Soot.”

Wilbur shrugs. “If you insist.”

He grins cheekily, and Tommy, unfortunately, realises just in time that Wilbur isn’t aiming for the goal, and ducks before he can get hit square in the head. 

It flicks right into the brute at the bar’s drink.

“Oh mother of cliches,” Wilbur mutters in annoyance, before waving again as a hulk sized shadow casts over them. “Can we help you?”

“You planning on buying me another drink?” The man glares hot butter knives, slamming a hand down on the table in front of Tommy, and _this is dumb. Who does this guy think he is interrupting Wilbur's merciless torture?_

“Well there’s money already in the cup isn’t there,” Tommy jokes nervously, and Wilbur kicks him from under the table. “HEY!”

“Are you seriously that upset over a spoilt drink? The coin was barely even infected by my brothers git hands.” Wilbur asks innocently, and the man cracks his knuckles threateningly. 

Wilbur gulps, and Tommy leans over in a stage whisper. “I think he is Wilbur.”

“Yes, thank you Tommy, very helpful Tommy, couldn’t have noticed without youTommy, love you so much Tommy-“

“It’s not _just_ the drink boy, and you know it.” _Oh, so we're doing this now..._

Wilbur holds up his hands in surrender. “If it’s the fact I don’t remember your name, I’m really sorry about that, but the author hasn’t gotten that far in the world-building yet so-“ 

“You know you can just fish the coin out, right?” Tommy interrupts, eyebrows raised incredulously. “Or are you just that thick that logic is a foreign concept?”

“ _Tommy-_ “

“We all remember what you are.” The man just growls, “Don’t think anyone’s forgotten. A few coins doesn’t erase the street rat, thief.” 

Wilbur straightens up, a few choice words coming to mind, but since he can practically feel the rage radiating from Tommy from here, he decides to play mediator and for once _not_ stoke the fires.

“Why don’t we settle this like adults.” Wilbur tries placatingly, only to have spit literally thrown in his face. Wilbur cringes in disgust and swats at his hair, because he’s already _had_ a shower today thank you-

“Don’t tell me to be an adult, boy. You lost your right when you-”

“Riiight, cause it’s real mature for a beefcake like you to gang up on us ‘street rats’. God you really are a real cliche brute huh? Where’s your fantasy LeFou?”

“That slam probably would have worked if we weren’t currently outnumbering him, Tommy.”

“Wilbur I know you’re delusional but there’s a time and a place for thinking your lanky ass is equal to sixty pounds of daddy issues.”

“Okay, change my mind, new offer! You kill my brother here, we all benefit!”

“Uh, new deal! New deal! Anything but that please and thank you!”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT IT!” The man drags a finger across his neck. “Or I’ll make you shut it.”

Tommy blinks, then stands up in his chair. 

“Uh?! Is this legal? Hey, other people in the bar, are you also seeing this grown man threaten children? Hello?!” He waves both of his hands around like a mad man, but only manages to gain the attention of one person, who cups their hands over their mouth and yells back,

_“You did kinda ask for it!”_

Tommy flops down in his chair in defeat. “Hate this fucking country.”

The man's hand on the table shifts, and Wilbur stands up instantly while Tommy stiffens up in fright.

The man's hand has moved to the back of Tommy’s neck.

“Right this is fun-” Tommy tries, voice unable to stay convincingly flippant from the way it trembles. Wilbur’s hand instinctively darts to his back for his guitar, only to grasp at nothing. _Ah. Right._

Tommy seems to take his clenched fist as something else, and his eyes light up.

“Oh, yeah that’s right! My brothers going to kick your ass, _and_ , you look dumb!”

What.

What.

**_Why is he so fucking stupid-_ **

Wilbur grits his teeth, finally starting to feel a little nervous as the man's expression goes straight up murderous. “Tommy,” He starts warningly.

“Uh huh big guy! Bet you don’t feel tough now! Wilbur thinks you look dumb, and smell, and would never be able to land a woman in your life!”

Wilbur pulls a teasing face despite himself. “Let’s not be hasty there Tommy, he could be gay.”

Tommy blinks. “Well then he’s definitely never gonna land a woman.” He starts, only to let out a strangled noise when the grip tightens, and Wilbur’s hand flies to a piece of cutlery and-

A calm voice breaks through the bar without even needing to raise its volume. “Is there a problem here?” 

The tavern goes quiet. 

“Oh, hallo Techno!” Wilbur chirps over the deathly silence, while Tommy’s slumps like a rag doll in relief as he’s hastily dropped.

“Oh thank god my actually competent older sibling is here.” He mumbles.

“Wh-I had it handled-“ Wilbur starts offended, and Tommy glares at him.

“With your spoon, oh yeah, real relieved-”

Wilbur looks down at his ‘chosen weapon’ and goes red, throwing it back on the table. 

“I’ll have you know spoons are incredibly lethal in the right hands.” Wilbur mumbles under the clunking of armoured boots.

“I was just having a friendly discussion with your brothers ‘sir’.” The baker tries to cover up, and honestly “tries” is too generous a term. The way he spits the ‘sir’ is counterpoint enough.

“Oh, sure, so you wouldn’t mind if I included my sword in your ‘friendly conversation’?” Techno asks, and honestly, who brings their sword with them after hours? His brother was a nerd.

Techno briefly shoots him a look that tells Wilbur he’s not being held in the highest opinion himself right now.

”R-right you-”

It’s either the threat, or his brother's reputation that gets the nameless thug (he wasn’t nameless, of course, and Wilbur had definitely remembered the title by now. Had never forgotten it, actually, just like the lyrics to his rather uncomplimentary song he’d written as a child about the man. Wilbur just didn’t want to give the man the privilege of being mentally named anymore) to back down. “Right yeah that’s, that’s not necessary.” He grumbles, and Techno nods.

“That’s what I thought.”

All eyes are on them. It’s only because Wilbur’s known his brother for so long that he can tell Techno is getting a little overwhelmed by it.   
  


“Well, this was terrifying and not at all worth it!” Wilbur says cheerfully, clapping his hands together to gain back attention. The barkeep throws up her hands, and Wilbur hastily backtracks. “Not the service though! I’m sure if we ever actually ordered it’d be five stars.” She lowers her hands satisfied and goes back to polishing the one glass that never gets clean.

“Don’t think that crown emblem has made us forget where you’re from pig.” The man hisses, loud enough for everyone to hear and act like they aren’t thinking the same thing. Wilbur wants to flip off all of them, but decides to use his hands for a more pressing task, grabbing his idiot younger brothers fist before he tries punching someone’s lights out.

Techno just rolls his eyes. “Oh go give Marie the baguettes already.” 

Techno doesn’t look relieved when the man walks off. He just grabs the two of them by the shirts and drags them out, ignoring Tommy’s squawking protests and the laughter that resumes in the bar.

The cold night air hits him like a slap, and Wilbur's lighthearted mood is taken with it.

Wilbur wasn’t quite sure when Techno had made the switch to being the responsible brother, but you’d be an idiot not to realise the role he plays. The fun of the evening twists into something else in Wilbur’s stomach, and he looks away.

“What. Happened.” Techno asks, looking like the perfect picture of a soldier that Wilbur instantly wants to deck. Who does he think he is to boss Wilbur around anyways, _he’s like sixteen and a bloody twig-_

Techno raises his eyebrow.

“This was entirely Tommy’s fault!” Wilbur answers instantly, head snapping up to attention as Tommy flounders. _So much for that, why don’t you throw a salute in too while you’re at it?_

“WH-“

“He needlessly provoked the guy when we could have avoided the fight entirely!”

Techno’s eyes flick to Tommy unimpressed.

“Well-technically, okay, I _did_ call him stupid! I’ll admit that!” Tommy tries to defend, before sputtering and jabbing a finger at Wilbur. “But-but Wilbur called him gay!”

“Are you saying that’s a bad thing?” Wilbur counters, and Tommy gets even more flustered. “Unbelievable, my sibling is a homophobe.”

“That’s not what I meant! I was just-okay, Wilbur and I said, what is it uh, contradicting-“

Wilbur snorts out a laugh. “Not the word Tommy.” He corrects, and Tommy visibly scrambles for the word he’d actually wanted.

“ _I just meant-”_

“Are you saying that gay people can’t be dumb Tommy?”

“What?! No! Gay people can be plenty dumb! That is, uh-”

Wilbur exaggeratedly shakes his head in shame. “See what I’m telling you Techno? Homophobic our brother is, we should have left him on the streets in my opinion.”

“ _Oi!”_ Tommy yelps, expression half genuinely distraught.

“No one is getting left on the streets,” Techno reassures, and Tommy visibly deflates in relief. “You’re sleeping outside for a week though.”

“Hah!” Wilbur shouts, and Tommy recovers from his brief affronted squawking session to huff at Wilbur. 

“Don’t know why you’re acting smug,” Tommy grumbles, crossing his arms, “he was obviously talking about you.”

**Author's Note:**

> “I probably won’t ever expand on this”  
> They say while making a series for this just in case


End file.
